


Ride a Painted Pony

by Exdraghunt



Category: Original Work
Genre: Circus, Hate Fuck, Other, Possible Bestiality, Sort Of, gross clown, the horse is sentient, they fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26454394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exdraghunt/pseuds/Exdraghunt
Summary: At the circus at night, when the lights go out and the crowds leave, the carousel animals come to life to have some fun of their own.
Kudos: 2





	Ride a Painted Pony

**Author's Note:**

> In which a clown and a carousel horse fuck. This came about because I was researching carousel animals, and one book referred to a horse’s “pole hole.” My brain immediately decided I needed to write a story about a carousel horse getting fucked in the pole hole.
> 
> Probably not the dumbest thing I've written, but close.

* * *

The carousel goes ‘round forever whirling. Intricately carved horses and menagerie animals bob up and down on their poles to the tune of a powerful Wurlitzer band organ, the sound mixing with the delighted screams of children gripping tightly to wooden necks and manes. As dusk falls, the hundreds of multi-colored lights reflect off mirrors and painted scenery, creating a glowing, spinning display that outshines all around it. Eventually, though, true night falls and the crowds begin to disperse. The last riders dismount their steeds and wander off, until the fairgrounds stand empty of all except a few workers sweeping up the trash and detritus of the day.

A creaking sound comes from the carousel, clearly audible now that the Wurlitzer has been silenced. The lead horse stretches out one foreleg, then the other, shaking out the stiffness from the day. Behind him, the elephant’s trunk uncurls and the tail of the tiger swishes back and forth. Though the machinery is silent and still, the carousel comes to life once more.

Sol Kuaitan nimbly stepped down from his pole, a shiver running through his body as he left the leaping pose he was frozen in during the day. The lean Quagga watched as the others of the menagerie left their poles, leaving nothing but the bases sticking up from the platform of the carousel. In the dim light of the moon, they looked almost like the flesh and blood animals they were based on. If not for the elaborate saddles and the foot of polished brass rod sticking up from their backs.

Hollow hoofsteps echoed off the platform as Goliath, the noble armored king horse of the carousel, trotted up alongside Sol.

“Another night.” Sol commented, tonguing at his bit until he could force the words out. Goliath simply snorted in return. The king horse kept a watchful eye on his subjects, but rarely interacted. Sol, as the leader of the menagerie, was the exception.

As wooden animals crept away to their nightly wanderings, soon all that was left was the brightly painted quagga and the armored king horse. Goliath nodded, then walked off into the night as well. Sol sighed and leapt down from the platform, taking a moment to adjust to the feeling of hard-packed earth under his hooves. He had once been a stander, before being converted into a jumper some years before, and it was comforting to have solid ground under him.

The question now was, how to spend the evening? Many of the carousel animals liked to wander to where the living animals were kept, to look at their counterparts and sometimes play if they were up for it. Most of the horses, he knew, would be with the performing horses at their stable. Other animals liked to go out to the fields on the edges of the carnival, to cavort and play and celebrate their few hours of freedom before returning to their frozen forms.

Sol turned that way, thinking that he might go run until the dawn, when a voice stopped him.

“Well, then. Look at the pretty pony, down from his perch.”

Shadows moved by the flap of one of the tents, the moon’s weak light revealing the heavily painted features of a clown. The human took a drag from the cigarette between his red, artificially smiling lips and blew out several rings of smoke. “What are you doing tonight, pony?”

“Sol,” The quagga corrected with some irritation. “And I am a zebra, not a pony.”

“Yeah, yeah. A horse is a horse, even the ones with stripes.” The clown put out his cigarette beneath one oversized shoe and came closer. Until Sol could recognize the pattern of shapes on his face, the makeup that was unique to each clown. August was known for having a ‘thing’ for horses, until management had told the man under no uncertain terms that if he was ever caught doing illicit things with the stable of show horses, he’d be out on his ass. This edict, however, did not extend to the wooden horses of the carousel.

“Don’t you usually go with American Beauty?” Sol asked, referring to a gorgeous white outside stander with wreaths of roses carved into her tack.

“She ain’t here, you are.” August shrugged, stepping forward and raising a hand until he could gently stroke the golden spiral pole sticking out of Sol’s back. The quagga shivered under the touch. “Why the rush, you got anything else goin’ tonight?”

True, he didn’t have anything else to do until dawn. Sol snorted and bobbed his head. “Fine.”

A grin spread across August’s face, distorting the smile already painted there, and Sol had the vague thought that this must be why some humans were scared of clowns. Then, a hand grabbed his reins firmly and tugged. Sol’s bit seated itself back into his mouth, and he felt his knees go weak. It wasn’t a child holding onto his reins, but Sol still couldn’t manage resistance as he was forced down onto the ground. Though carousel animals often looked fierce and wild, they were truthfully quite tame by their very nature.

“Now then, lets get that pole out.” August’s hand on his pole tightened and gave it a yank. Sol gasped and shuddered as the spiral brass rod slid out of his back, leaving an inch and a half hole through his body. “Learned this little trick with Beauty, since you lot don’t have proper bits.”

The hand on his reins let go so that August could fumble with the button fly of his colorfully striped trousers, and Sol managed to unseat his bit enough to spit out the words, “If you cum in me, I’ll trample your face.”

“Yeah, yeah.” August waved his hand dismissively, pants dropping around his ankles. “I ain’t got no interest in cleaning out yer insides. Now then, don’t act like you ain’t gonna enjoy this too.”

Sol was about to protest, but when a finger gently probed the pole hole in his chest, he found himself at a loss for words. The hole in his back was not particularly sensitive, children poked their grimly little fingers into it and dropped small objects down it into his body cavity all day long. But the one in his chest, no one touched that. Until now.

“Ooooh,” Sol shuddered and curled inwards, eyes squeezing shut. That felt unexpectedly good. Very good.

The exploring finger left, only to be replaced with something softer and wetter. August was down on his hands and knees now, face buried against Sol’s chest as his tongue explored every nook and cranny of the carousel horse’s hole. Sol’s forelegs wrapped around August’s shoulders, head thrown back in excitement, and his rear legs kicked helplessly. This wasn’t how he had planned on spending his night, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Like that, do ya?” August surfaced for air with a grin on his face and a wild gleam in his eyes. “You jumpers are always so sensitive. Got nice, big holes too. Not like the standers.” He shifted, moving himself up until his hands were on either side of Sol’s head, trapping his reins against the ground and forcing his bit deeper into his mouth. Sol drooled around the wooden rod digging into the corners of his mouth, dark, swirled marble eyes trying to focus on the human above him.

August groaned as his slid his dick into the carousel horse’s pole hole, the metal sides made just warm and slick enough from his spit to enter with minimal discomfort. It was still on the tight side, flanges in the metal rim digging into the sensitive skin of his penis, but that was just how he liked it. Almost better than the warm folds of a real mare. Almost.

As he started to thrust, August concentrated on the face of the quagga below him. Sol was panting, though no real breath emerged to fog the night air, and while his marble eyes showed no emotion, he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. Then, August moved his attention to what was above Sol’s eyes. The quagga might have been carved and painted as a zebra, but someone over the years had had the brilliant idea to add a unicorn’s horn to the menagerie animal. It’s carved spiral, painted to look like ivory, reflected the orange of the gems set into the base in the weak moonlight, and August had the sudden desire to know what it tasted like. Probably the same as the rest of Sol, like varnished wood, but it was what the item represented that mattered.

Leaning forward, August wrapped his mouth around the tip of the horn, which had been blunted to prevent injury to curious children, and explored the spiral carvings with his tongue. He was right, all he could taste was varnish, but the whinny that it drew from the equine under him was reward enough.

“Heh, you like that?” August asked as he drew back for a breath, thrusting a little harder with his hips. He was panting now too, the pressure building inside him telling him he wouldn’t last much longer. In this position at least. “How many brats have stroked that horn a’ yers? Bet they never got a reaction like that outta ya.”

Many a child had grabbed Sol’s horn over the years, ever since the carving had been added to him. But during the day, when he was motionless wood, it felt like nothing. Here, under the moonlight, things were different. The warm, wet confines of a mouth, as opposed to the sticky, candy-coated fingers of a child, was somehow incredibly erotic.

Staring at the face above him, Sol could see a quivering tension build in August’s eyes, cheeks flushing further under their rosy paint. As the human’s eyes rolled back, Sol gave a snort and shoved at August’s shoulders with his forelegs. The clown’s dick popped free of his hole just in time to shoot thick ropes of white cum all over the proud phoenix carved into Sol’s chestpiece. Sol wrinkled his nose. At least it hadn’t gotten inside him.

“See,” August grinned, as though he hadn’t been rudely unseated from his perch. “Told ya I’d pull out.”

Sol rolled his eyes and climbed to his hooves. “Of course.” He said drily, looking around for his pole. Delicately, Sol used his teeth to pick up the brass pole out of the grass and twisted until he could slot it back into place.

“Don’t act like you didn’ enjoy that too.” August pulled a rag out of his back pocket and started wiping himself off. “I saw you back there pantin’ and snortin’.”

“True, this was. . .enjoyable.” Sol admitted. He glanced between his pole and the clown, a calculating look coming over his face. “In fact, I have an idea for another round. If you’re up for it?”

“A course I’m up for it!” August declared, offended by the idea that he might be some one-shot wonder.

“How’d you like to go for a ride?”

“A ride?” August repeated as he glanced at the carved saddle on Sol’s back, silver stirrups clanking gently against the wooden horse’s sides.

“You’ve had your. .. pole inside of me. Only fair for me to put my pole inside of you.” Sol reasoned.

Suddenly, August understood just what Sol had in mind. A grin came over his face. “I like the way you think, horse. Been a little bit since I’ve taken anything like that, tho. Gonna need a little more than spit. Hang on a sec.”

Holding his pants together with one hand, August suddenly rushed off back into the clown’s dressing tent. Sol shifted from one hoof to the other impatiently as he listened to the sound of trunks being banged open and stuff being thrown about. The cum was starting to dry on his chest, clouding the sparkling gems set into his romance side, and Sol grimaced. He was going to need a damn good bath after this before he could report back to work in the morning.

August re-emerged after a few minutes, having shucked his striped pants in favor of a pair of fringed cowboy chaps instead. Nothing underneath, of course, giving full access to the important bits. An equally ridiculous cowboy hat sat on his head, and the clown had a squeeze bottle of lubricant in one hand. He still had all his facepaint on, though it was starting to run a little from the sweat August had worked up.

“Alrighty.” August bent over slightly and squeezed a generous amount of slippery, clear lube onto his hand before reaching back to spread his asshole. “Just gotta prepare myself a little here.” He slipped in one finger, then a second, scissoring them to try and stretch out. August was a fan of assplay as much as the next clown, but it wasn’t something he got to indulge in as often as his liked. The carousel horses weren’t exactly hung like their real-life counterparts, much to his dismay.

“Here, let me.” Sol moved around behind him, shifting his bit in his mouth.

“What?” August didn’t have much time to react before his fingers were forced out of the way and a giant horse tongue was stuffed up his butt instead. “Oi!”

Any reply Sol might have made was muffled as the quagga explored the man’s innards with his tongue, suddenly quite glad he didn’t have a sense of taste. He pressed his muzzle more firmly into the cleft between August’s buttchecks, send his tongue as deep as he could. The clown shuddered, sphincter muscles relaxing around the intrusion, and Sol figured he must be doing something right.

“Alright, Alright!” August gasped after a minute or so of this treatment. “That’s good. Unless you wanna finish this afore it starts.”

Sol pulled back, wiggling his nose at the sensation of the lubricant stuck to his muzzle. “Anything else?”

“Jus’ gotta lube up some more.” August felt around for the bottle he had dropped, but Sol found it first.

Carefully grasping the squeeze bottle in his teeth, Sol inserted the nozzle into August’s butt and gave it a squeeze. The clown yelped and jumped about a foot in the air. “HEY! I ain’ a turkey being basted!”

Sol just twisted his neck to drizzle some lube onto his pole as well before spitting the bottle back out. “I trust that will be sufficient?”

“Yeah, yeah.” August grumbled, awkwardly shuffling over to Sol in a bow-legged stance, some of the lube trickling back out and down his leg. It felt like nearly half the bottle had been shot into him, which was a little annoying. That stuff was expensive. Oh well, better to have too much lube than not enough, right?

Lifting a foot into one stirrup, August grasped Sol’s pole firmly and swung himself up into the saddle. He eyed the pole in his hands. It wasn’t as long or as girthy as some things he had taken in the past, so fitting it wouldn’t be too much of an issue. The hard part would just be getting up on it.

“Alright, don’t you move a muscle until I get myself fully seated.” August instructed as he maneuvered himself forward in the saddle. “Last thing I need tonight is another fuckin’ prolapse.”

It wasn’t easy, but after some careful finagling, August felt the brass knob that topped the pole press against his entrance. He lowered himself down slowly with a hiss, the lubricated pole sliding into him inch by inch, until his ass rested against the pommel of the saddle. August shifted slightly, adjusting to the stretch of the pole inside him, dick starting to grow hard once more at the sensation. This wasn’t quite how he had expected the night to go, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

Gathering up Sol’s reins in one fist, August reached back with his other hand and gave the quagga a sharp slap on the rump. “Giddy-up, horsie!”

Sol leapt into action, hooves finding the rhythm of a canter, then a full gallop. Looked like he was going to get in his run after all. It was all August could do to grab Sol’s stiff mane and hang on tight, trying to match the thundering rhythm. Sol’s shoulders rolled with the motion of his hooves pounding the grass, making the pole jackhammer in and out of August’s ass. The clown’s cry of “Holy Shit!” was swallowed up by the elated whinny Sol let fly as he picked up speed.

Reaching the larger fields on the outskirts of the carnival, Sol found himself circling to the left, matching the counter-clockwise rotation of his carousel home. He bucked and kicked, letting out all his joy and excitement at being free for the night, as August clung to his back as best he could. His prostate hadn’t known such abuse in many years, every jar of the pole inside him sending a little bolt of electricity through his body. It was the sweetest kind

of pain.

As he grew used to the motion of Sol underneath him, August managed to straighten up a little from his hunch and pried one hand off the quagga’s carved mane to instead reach up and pull off his hat. Waving the oversized cowboy at in the hair, August let out a loud whoop. “Yeah! Watch me tame this here buckin’ bronco!”

Sol chose that moment to leap into the air, all four hooves leaving the ground at once, before kicking out powerfully with his hind legs and slamming back into the ground. All the air in August’s lungs was expelled with a ‘whuff’ as he was slammed forward into Sol’s neck before the quagga took off once more.

Hat now lost somewhere in the field, August took the reins in both hands and gave the right one a harsh tug. Sol resisted, not wanting to turn away from his accustomed direction of circling, but had no choice as the bit dug into his mouth.

“Yeah, there we go.” August’s elation at controlling the powerful animal underneath him was such he didn’t even wince at the sensation of his balls slapping against Sol’s wooden shoulders. He flicked the reins and dug in his heels, “Faster!” In this competition of endurance, he would not be the one that tired first. “Come on, pony, faster!”

Sol tucked his head and sped up, their surroundings blurring until it felt almost like flying. August’s knees slipped a little from their tight grip, but the pole lodged up his ass kept him tightly tethered to the horse he was riding. Red, white, and black cake makeup streamed down his face as his sweat wore it away, staining the ruffled collar of his shirt.

Though Sol was a wooden horse, there were still limits on how long he could keep up such a pace. The dowels and hide glue that held his parts together could only take so much abuse. Still, he didn’t want to lose this contest of wills.

Planting all four hooves, Sol suddenly reared up and waved his forelegs at the moon and the stars in the sky, tossing his head until gravity forced him back down. His front hooves hit the ground with a thud, driving the pole so far into August he thought it might come out his mouth. With a weak shout, the clown gave. Slick, white cum spattered all over Sol’s mane until August’s balls had no more to give, then the human slumped bonelessly over Sol’s neck.

Slowly, Sol started to plod back towards the carnival. August let out a weak groan at the motion, but didn’t sit up. Sol kept walking, needing to take a little cool-down of his own after the hard run he’d had.

By the time they reached the tents, August had recovered enough to sit up. When Sol came to a stop, the clown gingerly lifted himself off the pole, the ball at the top coming free with a wet pop! On shaking legs, August managed to lower himself down to the ground and looked around with some confusion. “Hey, this ain’t my tent.”

“No.” Sol agreed, “That’s because I need to be washed before morning, and I can’t do it myself.”

August frowned, but was well aware that if he attempted to leave he’d be chased down. They were just outside the animal tents, where a water truck with attached spigot for refilling water buckets sat. August shuffled over to the hose and picked it up, trying to ignore the stinging pain in his entire lower body.

“Alright, come over here, ya vain horse. Lemme wash you off.”

Fortunately, being painted wood meant that the stains came off of Sol easily. He luxuriated in the cold spray, turning this way and that, until every trace of cum and lube was gone and his varnish and gems shone once more. After that, the two parted ways, August headed towards the human’s shower trailer to clean himself up before trying to catch a few winks of sleep with what was left of the night, and Sol going back out towards the field to let the night air dry him off.

As dawn rose on the horizon, August bunked himself down in his hammock and fell straight to sleep despite the snoring of the other clowns. Sol, meanwhile, made his dutiful way back towards the carousel. Other horses and menagerie animals joined, returning from wherever and whatever they had spent their nights doing. Sol watched until the entire menagerie was back on their poles, and was just moving to go to his when he heard hoof-falls approaching from behind him. It was Goliath, the armored king horse, a cartoonish cowboy hat between his teeth and an unreadable expression on his face.

Sol chuckled and took the hat, carefully stashing it beneath the ride operator’s chair where no one would notice it. Maybe he’d find August again tomorrow night, to return the hat. And maybe for a follow up.

The sunlight began to warm the wooden hides of the carousel animals as Sol found his place among them. He returned to his pole and lifted his legs from the ground, freezing once more into his jumping pose, a grin on his face and fire in his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary of terms:  
> King Horse: the most elaborately carved and decorated horse on a carousel. Often an armored horse.  
> Jumper: A carousel animal that goes up and down. Also called gallopers. They have larger poles than standers, due to weight they must support.  
> Stander: a carousel animal that does not go up and down, usually found on the outside row.  
> Menagerie Animal: any carousel animal that is not a traditional horse.  
> Quagga: an extinct subspecies of Plains Zebra.  
> Romance Side: The side of a carousel animal that faces out, towards the audience. The left side, in American carousels. Always more elaborately carved and painted than the inner side.  
> Wurlitzer: the brand of band organ most commonly used on carousels.


End file.
